


erotomania

by rottenstrawberrymilk



Category: Outlast (Video Games)
Genre: Canon-Typical Behavior, Canon-Typical Violence, Erotomania, Explicit Language, F/M, Horror, NSFW, One Shot, One-Sided Attraction, Outlast: Whistleblower, Paraphilias, Possessive Behavior, Reader-Insert, Smut, Yandere
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-22
Updated: 2020-02-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 10:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,706
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22848808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rottenstrawberrymilk/pseuds/rottenstrawberrymilk
Summary: -"unreasonable love of a stranger or person who is not interested in them"
Relationships: Eddie Gluskin/Reader, Eddie Gluskin/You
Comments: 4
Kudos: 143





	erotomania

Being a journalist really wasn't where you expected your life to end up. You didn't expect to find yourself walking down the halls of a dark, stank-ass murderfuckhouse asylum either, but here you still were. Life had a funny way of fucking you over like that. And so did the small time, supposedly modest journal you worked for. It was less of a dignified newspaper or a respectable daily journal really, than it was a big gossipy website littered with clickbait and ads covering every other word. This would be the part where you'd reflect back and think, _What did I ever see in them?_ But you didn't need to do that, because you already knew the answer was the pretty fair paycheck you got in exchange for your work. Better than working at a fucking McDonald's, you supposed. 

But then again, if you'd just taken a job at McDonald's, chances were no manager in hell would have politely asked you, then begged you, into breaking and entering for the sake of "the truth" you weren't sure actually existed. They'd picked you because you were the most dispensable. No big deal. They wanted you to get some footage of this supposedly abandoned asylum. They wanted to publish the footage (of what you assumed was going to be the nauseating conditions) and a big story along with it. They wanted it, and they claimed that once they got it, it would blow up--alongside your good name. They promised you you'd go down as a legendary whistleblower. Apparently, once you called out whatever assholes had built and run this place for being scummy and gross, you'd "give so many families the closure and give the public the answers it so desperately craves".

You believed those were the exact words that had been said to you, as you sat in that dingy office, arms crossed and foot tapping impatiently. Your memory might have been a bit fuzzy on that considering that same day you'd also shown up only slightly hung over. 

_Huh, that might be another reason I agreed to do this fucking shit..._

However, a pretty vital piece of information never actually made its way to you. And that was that the asylum actually wasn't abandoned at all. Nope! Chock full, still, with the same lunatics who had been committed to it and trapped inside. You'd only figured that out once you went through the minimal effort of breaking in and instantly got chased down by some big fucking guy with no nose. The other thing you figured out while you were trying to run from big fucking guy was that all the doors seemed to be locked, there were no emergency exits, the fire escapes had been torn apart long ago, and that apparently getting out was loads harder than coming in. 

You believe the thought that'd crossed your mind about then was, G _reat, fucking fantastic, truly awesome and wonderful. I'm literally gonna die in here, what the fuck._

The state of the asylum was honestly less than great--from what you glimpsed while you were running from your life. You were pretty sure there was a bloodstain every other foot or so in the hallway, some even splattered on the walls. Someone had taken the liberty of finger-painting with said blood and honestly you didn't know how you were ever going to thank them, because it really did bring the whole place together so well. Ocassionally you saw fingers and nails wedged in the walls and the floors and lots of teeth. Like, _so_ many teeth. Everything looked pretty shit. The interior designer did a really fucking bad job. Pretty bleak--pretty boring. Very smelly. God, you should have never come here. 

By the time you finally found a safe area to recooperate and start actually mentally and emotionally dealing with the fresh gore and horror you'd just subjected yourself to, your arms had almost been ripped off your body four separate times. The big fucking guy had been pretty persistent. You assumed the only reason he still wasn't chasing you was because he fell off your tracks and got distracted by something else. His words still echoed in your ringing ears. He'd been screaming at you for trespassing, which you guessed was valid. What wasn't valid? Trying to literally rip you in two probably. You trusted that he'd be back. It was better to keep moving in this rank hellhole anyways. 

Awkwardly, you shifted the camera into your non-dominant hand, always rolling, always ready. It felt extremely awkward, but your other arm was becoming sore. The adrenaline was finally starting to wear off and you began to drop your runner's high. The pain in your arm only got worse as you spent more time walking, filming around. You found yourself stopping a few times, to inhale sharply, before trying to deny the excruciating pain once again. Eventually, you came to the conclusion that your dominant arm must have gotten dislocated or broken. 

You lifted your camera up, counting on the distraction to help you out as you went through your footage. As much as your arm hurt, you weren't going to lie, but the shot you got of the big fucking guy trying to rip it off looked good as hell. You found yourself peering closer at the footage as you shuffled onwards. 

_Why does he look like that? All fucked up? What happened to everyone here? Sure, they might have been psychos and serial killers--I've done my fucking homework--but they didn't look like this when they came in here. There's no way. Something awful happened here. Maybe that's the truth I'm supposed to find._

Your heard heavy steps far down the hallway and your gaze snapped up and away from the camera. 

Fuck, _here he comes_.

"Little _pig,_ " he snarled out, his voice thundering through the hallways, once again forcing your heart rate and blood pressure way up.

You didn't waste a single second making a run for it once again. You clapped a hand, with the camera in it, to your fucked up arm, pressing it to your side so you wouldn't ruin it even more. He started to run behind you too. You had to admit that you were learning many new things here. For example, the stereotype that big guys couldn't move fast and couldn't do cardio for shit had been completely broken for you. You knew this because you were sure the big fucking guy had to be over two hundred pounds and hurtling at you faster than you could run yourself. Obviously, the math wasn't going to add up. He was going to fucking catch you and he was going to fucking kill you.

If you could just find another hallway or a staircase, anywhere you could throw him off your trail once again--maybe even a place to hide till he got distracted again and wandered off. Eventually, just when you were starting to run out of breath, your prayers were answered. A stair case. Leading down, rather than up like you hoped, but whatever. You practically launched yourself down them.

_Maybe this'll be an emergency exit or a way outside. There's a garden out there. If I can just get outside I can get out of here, I think._

Distracted, you lost your footing and a stair cracked underneath your weight. Unable to stop the momentum, you ended up falling forwards and taking a pretty awful tumble down the stairs. When you hit the bottom, you wondered if you were dead. You laid there for a few moments, breathing in and out, before deciding that no you weren't. As you sat up quickly, ready to get up and run again, you stopped suddenly. You couldn't hear any heavy footsteps anymore. 

_He didn't even go down the stairs? What a fucking waste._ you thought bitterly as you began to stand up, slowly. You checked over your camera and only found little cracks in the lense. You better get paid back for this fucking shit. 

The newfound pain in your body was very helpful when you started to move again. It helped you forget about your dislocated arm, which was actually kinda great. You hadn't twisted anything important or broken your legs, neck, or spine so you figured you were good to go. Slight dizziness still plagued you. You gave your head a shallow shake, leaning against a wall for support momentarily. A soft breath left you and when you finally looked up, you jumped slightly.

There was a severely underfed looking guy. Mutilated just like the big fucking guy, but far worse. You expected him to come running at you, to instantly become aggressive the minute you locked eyes with him. Your muscles stiffened as you stayed frozen against your spot on the wall. However, he didn't even make a motion towards you. Instead, he let out a piercing shriek and disappeared into a door, slamming it shut behind him, continuing his hellish wailing.

_Fucking weird. Alright. Better than coming at me, I guess._

You nervously swallowed as you stood up straight again and continued on. You figured it was better not to disturb the inmate and didn't even hesitate at the door. Just keep moving straight. Keep moving forwards. That's all that mattered now. Eventually, your luck would turn and an escape opportunity would arise again. 

The more you explored through this new section of the asylum, the less you liked it. There were less inmates, that was for sure, which would have been a benefit, if you hadn't been walking past dead bodies for the past seven yards or so. They were all lined up nearly, like overflow, slumped over, smelling very nasty. The remaining asylum patients seemed more timid and terrified of everything. They spooked very easily, and upon seeing you in the hallway, walking slowly and cautiously, they'd either shriek at the top of their lungs and bail, or they'd sit perfectly still. You'd thought the ones that sat still were dead at one point, but the soft, rasping breaths coming from their hollow chests told you otherwise. You'd been nervous that they'd suddenly grab your or wait till you were close to strike, but they didn't. 

They looked almost...sad. 

Still all these hints eventually lead to a rather unfortunate conclusion. You wished you were an idiot and couldn't have connected the dots so early. You wished you wouldn't have realized that these malnourished, gaunt, mockeries of men weren't the biggest problem downstairs. They were victims. In a strange way, you related to the terror they wore so blatantly out on their sleeves--not that they actually had any clothes. They were scared, just like you. Of something much bigger. Much worse. Much, much worse, you'd come to realize later. 

The farther you pushed into the section of the asylum, the less patients there were. It was an eerie sort of silence. It sucked being in a silent, dim hallway alone with your thoughts and your loudly thumping heart. Luckily, you ended up stumbling upon the worst sight you'd beheld so far in this fucking asylum, which distracted you from your thoughts. 

All you'd done was find a door, an unlocked one, and opened it out of part curiosity and part desperation. The room was the most nauseating sight yet. It looked fine at first. It was looking up that fucking killed you, that made your stomach drop to your knees and made your hand shoot up to your mouth and cover it in shock. 

Corpses hung from the rafters. 

Although you hated yourself for it, you positioned the camera in your hand better. Moving your arm in a slow arc, you recorded the entire horrific scene. A closer look revealed that all of the corpses seemed to be mutilated. Not just blistered or torn up sloppily like the other pitiful creatures that roamed this hellhole, but like they'd been given surgery by someone who clearly was no doctor. They all had roughly stitched breast implants and uncomfortably...naked nether regions. Neatly shaved, but nothing else to really see. If you hadn't taken a closer look, you would have identified each corpse as a very mutilated woman.

_...But this is an all male facility._

Quickly, you continued on, finding another door at the end of the room. It frustrated you pretty greatly to find yourself in yet another winding hallway. Who the fuck designed this place again? Were they aiming to make it a goddamn labyrinth? 

_Of course, whoever designed it was one of the fuckers who wanted this place to happen and knew what was going to happen in here. Of course, they'd make it a maze. They didn't want anyone finding their way out. Not the patients...probably not even the staff. Yikes._

A strange sort of anger still welled up in your chest. 

_And me. I'm never going to get fucking out of here. I'M NEVER GOING TO FUCKING GET OUT OF HERE-_

Not knowing what else to do with yourself, you let out a strangled, frustrated cry and turned to smash your fist against the wall. You let it sit there, feeling the waves of pain edge through and up your limb. A sharp, shaking inhale tore through your slightly open lips. Then an equally angry exhale left you. 

"FUCK."

Hitting the wall made you feel a teensy, tiny bit better. Venting your thoughts to nothing felt better, but a little bit nutty. 

_Is complete derangement contagious? What if they have like a crazy people disease and that's what made them the way they are. Maybe it's spreading to me._

You looked up from the wall and turned your head down the hallway once more. Your heart stopped in your chest when you saw a large, dark silhouette a little farther down. At first, your heart raced, and you assumed the big fucking guy had finally tracked you down again. But when your eyes adjusted, you noticed that whoever was standing there was a head or two smaller than the big fucking guy. And to your relief, the man was dressed fully.

_Jesus fuck, if I have to see another pair of fucking balls in here I'm gonna fucking die,_ you thought to yourself momentarily.

Your first instinct was to call out and ask him for help, maybe some directions. But you weren't fucking stupid. There wouldn't be a friendly, helpful that just happened to be here out of pure accident as well. No. He was here for a reason. Just like all the other patients. Another closer look at him, and you noticed the horrible, disfiguring scars on the right side of his face, marking him as one of the asylum. It removed any doubt from your mind. This guy was just as fucked as anyone else here. 

You took a step back.

And he spoke. 

"Oh, hello darling," he called out to you.

You were confused. Relieved at first, but ultimately confused. All you'd been greeted with here was ramblings and seething, rasping voices. At best, maybe three word sentences, barely being formed. But here was this sharply dressed man, speaking to you like he'd run into you on a street corner, like he'd known you forever. Distrust once again gnawed at you and you took another step back. This was a trap. 

He was here for a fucking reason.

"Have I said something wrong? I long to hear your voice, darling...why don't you answer me? Are you afraid?"

Your brows furrowed. "I'm-wait what?" was all you managed to sputter out. He smiled widely at the sound of you. He apparently took your confusion as an invitation to come closer. 

You thought he'd take it easy, only taking a few steps. But he didn't. He confidently was coming right up to you. You took another few steps back. Whoever this fucker was he wasn't taking the hint. 

"Stop," you said, sharply, suddenly, fear tinging your voice. "I said _stop_." 

He wasn't listening. In fact, the expression on his blistered face looked like one of pure, unfiltered shock. He put an large, offended hand to his chest as he strode closer. "Darling, why are you speaking to me like that? There is no need for such venom..."

_Big fucking surprise. He's not listening. Nuts. Insane. The resident asylum nutball fuckhead won't listen. Absolutely stellar. At this point, why bother? I should fucking run for it. He's probably just as bad as the other guy,_ you thought as you continued backing up.

The man in the suit didn't have a limp or anything slowing him down like the other inmates. He was so...distinguished, for a lack of better words. That's when it hit you. He was the worst one down here. _He_ was what those other patients were so fucking terrified of. The worst part was, you still didn't know why. You still didn't know what he'd done, what he was capable of, what he'd do to you if he came close. 

_Fuck this noise, I'm going back._

You turned tail and bolted back the way you came. At least you'd be familiar with the area. It crossed your mind that the man who had already broken into a run to chase you probably knew it better. Stupid, stupid, stupid, why were you so fucking stupid? Maybe you could head back up the stairs. Your hand reached for the door that would lead back into the room of hanging titty corpses.

"No, don't go in there! The sight will be too gruesome for your eyes, my darling!" the man called out, his voice taking on a desperate twinge. He called out again, even louder. " _DARLING?!"_

It was your turn not to fucking listen. You opened the door, went in, and slammed it shut before running. Opening the door again would stall him a few half seconds maybe. Better than nothing. 

"Oh, I promise you, darling, you won't end up like these ungrateful whores! You're different, I know it, I've known it since I've first laid eyes on you!" 

_Ohhhhh, so that's what he did,_ was the one, cohesive thought that crossed your mind. _Scary but...there's other fuckheads in here that have brutally killed each other. There's something I'm missing from the puzzle. Something about this guy that he does that I don't know about yet._

"Come back here! I only want to love you oh so dearly! I'lll be so sweet to you, my darling!"

Damn that boy could fucking run. You continued on into the other hallway, past the hanging corpse room, with him hot on your heels. You didn't bother looking back to try and figure out where he was. His voice gave him away. 

"Darling, you must be so frightened! I can hold you close and make you safe! Just stop running! _Stop running from me_!" 

You caught a glimpse of a slightly open door you hadn't noticed before. Chances were there was some other whackjob hiding in there, but they weren't your fucking problem. Your heart somehow thumped harder in your chest when you noticed a dusty 'emergency exit' sign above it (missing a few letters, but stable enough and not written deceptively in blood). 

"God _dammit!_ You whore! You fucking whore! Don't you dare leave me! I forbid you from leaving me, do you fucking hear me, you fucking bitch!" The man suddenly hollered, his smooth, suave voice replaced with some hoarse, terrifying semblance of it. Cute. Severe mood swings at the drop of a pin. Just what you wanted in a man.

You didn't think twice as you shoved the door open, ducked into the room and slammed it shut behind you. You turned away, knowing that yet another closed door would probably irritate this man at best, stalling him yet again. That's when you realized your tragic mistake. 

Whatever used to be the exit was heavily blocked by tons and tons of debris. A mix of concrete and wood planks, you figured as you still came towards it, in a complete state of disbelief. Still, desperation thrummed in your veins and you decided to give moving it a shot. The camera dropped from your hands. You needed both of them right now, fuck that damn camera. Your shaking fingers found the underside of a large slab and you threw your whole body weight against it, trying to slide it at least, out of the way. A grunt of effort escaped you as you strained and fought against the immobile chunk of stone. The door opened again, slowly. You turned your heard to watch the man slowly slink in.

This one was smarter than the others. He knew he had you trapped. He knew you were at his mercy. And something told you he didn't plan on chasing you down just to finally kill you in a way the other patients had planned on. No. There was still that "something different" about him that you had yet to see. 

His pale blue and bloodshot eyes met yours and he smiled, dipping his head slightly to acknowledge you. Was that over-polite, smooth personality of his back into play again? You knew now it was just his way of deceiving you. You'd gotten a glimpse of the monster he was--just from the sound of his voice while he screamed for you and now he couldn't pull the wool over your eyes again. You wouldn't be tricked again, no. Your brows lowered slightly. 

The man let out a heavy, dramatic sigh before reaching out towards you. "Oh, darling, why are you looking at me like that? I only want to love you..." 

He was coming closer and closer to you. Apparently having learned from his past mistakes, he went slower this time, like he was cornering a wounded, wild animal. You pressed your back to the debris--anything to try to get further away from him. Your hand went to pat around the rubble, trying to find a rock or something, anything, to use as a weapon to defend yourself.

"Don't come any fucking closer. I fucking mean it," you snarled out.

You saw his expression falter and the slight flinch at your curling, seething words. He forced another wide smile that didn't match the darkening look in his bloodshot eyes and the frustrated furrow of his thick, dark brows. "Don't you speak to me like that, whore," he seethed out, in a voice surprisingly and scarily low. You expected him to instantly start screaming again in anger. "Don't you _dare_ fucking speak to me like that. Ever again." All the sudden he froze, and that murderous look upon his face vanished again, even if it was just for the moment. His voice and expression went all soft again. "Forgive me, darling. I'm awfully sorry, I truly am. I don't know what got into me." He let out a bit of a chuckle. "You understand, don't you? How a man gets when he wants a woman this badly..."

He bit his bottom lip slightly, looking you up and down. You realized this was the first good look he'd gotten of you. He probably didn't have very good eyesight either, considering his fucked up eyes. He was still squinting a little bit, which lead you to believe you were still a bit blurry in his line of sight.

"You must be nervous for our big day, aren't you, my darling?" he suddenly asked, apparently taking your lack of fidgeting and threats as another invitation to come even closer. Gently, he reached out to you. 

_Hell_ fucking _no._

You smacked his brutish, rough hand away from your face. "Don't touch me! Who the fuck do you think you are?!" you snarled at him.

Once again, his expression faltered and you caught a glimpse of what he was really like. Your own eyes narrowed in response. He forced an answer out through obviously gritted teeth. "Darling, don't be _ridiculous._..I'm your lover. I'm your Eddie...and you're my whole world." 

"Well that's a shit name and I don't fucking know you so fuck off." 

You went to shove him, this 'Eddie' guy away so you could get around him and make another run for it. His chest was strong beneath your obviously shaking hands. He went to grab you again and you dodged out from underneath him before bolting for the door again. You couldn't hear his pounding footsteps over the blood in your ears. You could feel his hands just skimming over your hair, almost grabbing ahold again. You ignored it and managed to burst out of the door again. 

Just as you went to turn, you felt his hand around your dislocated arm. He tightened it and you let out a God-awful shriek. The pain had been gradually dulling before, but it all of the sudden came back when Eddie jerked you back near him.

"Darling, I've barely even _touched_ you! Quit that dramatic crying, right now!" he commanded, sounding annoyed. 

You started to struggle, thrashing against him, still screaming at the pain in your arm. Your nails dug at his coarsely haired arms and at the top of his hand, scoring long, red welts along his skin. He kept trying to grab at your neck, but you squirmed away from his grabs every time. You couldn't tell if you were still screaming or not. You felt him suddenly slam you, hard, into the wall in front of you. Your cheek pushed against the peeling wallpaper and another shriek erupted from you as he twisted both your arms back. Tears began to roll down your cheeks. 

You could feel his chest against your back. You could feel his arousal in the curve of your ass.

_What the fuck, what the fuck, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FUCK, WHAT THE FU-_

Eddie sighed into your ear, his hot breath tickling your ear and stirring the hair near your face. "Darling, the harder I work for you, the more savory I think you'll be..." You could feel his tongue against your neck and you squirmed beneath him before suddenly stopping when he tightened his grip on your arms. A soft groan of want seemed to escape from between his lips.

"Fuck _off!_ " you snapped, your face heating up. 

"I won't have you speaking to me like that again." His voice was suddenly cold all over again. He shifted both your wrists to one of his large hands. His free one snaked over your shoulder and grabbed ahold of your jaw, tightly. When you didn't respond to him and tried to jerk your head out of his grip, he wrenched your arms back again.

You let out another loud shriek, arching your stiffening back in a desperate attempt to get away from him. Your muscles seemed to cramp and tighten. 

"I'll cut out your fucking tongue, whore," Eddie snarled louder into your ear. "What a pity it would be, wouldn't it?" He laughed, like he'd just shared the most clever, suggestive joke in the whole world with you. He laughed like you hadn't been shrieking in agony beneath his hand. Eddie took on a more serious tone with no warning. "But it'll be a necessary sacrifice..."

_Oh my God, he's fucking serious._

You clenched your jaw shut. It was tight beneath Eddie's hand. He ignored it and suddenly forced his index and middle finger past your lips, between your teeth, and onto your tongue. It took all your power not to bite down as hard as you could. His threat still rang in your ears as the tears fell past your face. You could taste the dirt and sweat on his fingers. It was too much for you. Holding back a gag, you jerked your head away and pulled his fingers from your mouth suddenly. 

Eddie's lips were still close to your ear. Softly, he spoke. "Now come along, darling. I'd hate to drag you." 

You didn't say anything. Your body began to tremble even more violently and you bit the inside of your cheek--hard. 

"There you go..." he cooed to you, sounding beyond proud. "You're already learning, darling. You'll make such a smart little bride, won't you?" 

You couldn't stop the sudden flare of anger in your chest. Eddie went to begin to pull you along aside him. Out of spite, you let yourself go limp. His grip on you adjusted just slightly. Taking advantage of it, you jerked loose from him and fell onto the ground once again. A sharp exhale escaped you as you dragged yourself away from Eddie and began to get up so you could start running again. Quickly, Eddie grabbed your legs and dragged you back with a grunt of effort.

"You're not going to leave me, you slut!" Eddie snarled. His great arms wrapped around you as he lifted you up. He dipped your body, forcing all your weight onto one of his arms as he shifted his other underneath your legs. 

He was carrying you bridal style now as he turned back towards the door. The hand nearest your chest grabbed at your wrists aggressively, before securing them both together tightly so you couldn't thrash loose again. It certainly didn't stop you from trying. You kept struggling before the pain in your arm and shoulder once again just became too much. You let out a clenched hiss of pain, attempting to blink back tears once again. It wasn't working.

You'd began to cry harder as he retraced the frantic path you'd taken in an attempt to escape him before. 

"Don't you worry, darling. I'm going to fix you right up for our special day. You'll love it. You'll love me. You'll love the new and improved you..." As if to emphasize what he planned on fixing, Eddie's other hand, the one underneath your legs shifted up. He squeezed your thighs momentarily before suddenly grabbing your crotch, in what you guessed was supposed to be a playful manner. 

More tears fell from your eyes as he suddenly froze up. It was all connecting. Eddie had been the one that surgically mutilated all of those corpses--adding the features of women to them. He assumed you were a man that needed the same 'treatment'. Of fucking course. There was no way he could have gotten a good look at you until now. Not with the horrible lighting and his heavily damaged eyes. His eyesight was fucked and he hadn't been able to tell you were a woman. 

And now there was no amateur surgery to die in. 

What would he do to you now?

The answer was obvious. 

"...Oh my God. My God... _My Godddd, darling,_ " he practically moaned out, brimming with excitement. You could feel his lips along your neck, kissing you. Attempting to weakly jerk your head away didn't make things any better. It just gave him more room to work with--to press his lips and tongue and teeth to as he cooed to you. "You're already perfect. Sent down to me by God himself. Gift-wrapped with everything I could have ever dreamed of-- _no_ everything I've ever needed." 

You felt the disgusting building in your chest more and more as your eyes frantically darted around. He was now past the hanging corpse room and had gone back into the hallway where he'd first seen you. He was pushing farther on than you had been able to. There had to be some windows or some different exits around here somewhere. There _had_ to be another opportunity for you to escape. This wasn't how things were supposed to go for people like you. 

You couldn't let him fucking touch you. You couldn't let him actually get away with what he planned for you. There was no way you'd actually have to get fucked by this monster. No way. No way. No way. Shit like this didn't actually happen in real life. There was always another way, another place to slip out of. 

Eddie had begun to speak. You didn't tune into his words until halfway through, since you were too busy looking for another way out. "Now, darling, I'd like to let you decide. Would you like a dress for our wedding? It _is_ traditional and it would please me greatly-"

_THIS SICK SON OF A BITCH._

"How about you go _fuck_ yourself instead?!" you cried out. The thought of actually having to sit through whatever semblance of a wedding this psycho had planned for you rotted you to your core. You would not be apart of this fucking delusion. 

You began to struggle again in his arms. You swore you got close to finally being able to throw him off before he suddenly leaned to the side heavily and quickly. Purposely, he shoved you into a wall, putting particularly specific weight on your bad shoulder. You let out another earsplitting screech. 

Oh yeah. This guy was way smarter than the other patients. He remembered where your weak spot was. He remembered where he could hurt you the most to force you to behave. And you knew he would continue to use it against you. As delusional and out of touch as he was, he was aware of your...well...everything. He craved control and he was doing anything he could to take it from you--and he was doing a good job at that. The balance he seemed to keep as he switched from pure imagination to cold, hard reality was terrifying. It was unpredictable and fierce unlike anything you'd ever seen in the asylum before. 

Sharply, he spoke. "Darling, I'll ask you again, because it seems you've already forgotten. Do you really want to lose that tongue? Right before our honeymoon, as well?"

Even though you remembered his threat from before, it wouldn't stop you from showing him how much you hated him in any way possible. You were wearing his patience thin once again and he would snap soon whether you influenced or not. You kept your mouth shut, but fixed Eddie with the most venomous glare known to fucking mankind. 

His eyes twitched slightly and a forced smile appeared upon his scarred face as he began down the hallway once more. "Oh, darling, I understand that you must be confused and nervous. But I've had a lot of patience for you. I really am a kind, generous man. I do believe that you can see that. You're just choosing not to right now."

Every single self-centered word from his mouth only made you angrier and angrier. You were definetley going to lose your fucking tongue if he didn't wrap up his little speech soon. You stiffened in his grasp when his hand ghosted over your cheek just slightly. 

"Honestly, once you've calmed down, you'll see what a good husband I am for you. Once we're married, darling, you'll be so much happier. You'll be beautiful. _We'll_ be beautiful. You must understand that I do this all in the name of my undying love for you. I really do adore you so..."

You couldn't take it anymore. "I''m _not_ interested," you seethed out between clenched teeth. He either didn't hear you or chose to ignore you in favor of continuing his ramble. 

Eddie wouldn't stop talking. He wouldn't stop insisting that he loved you more than you could ever know. That he'd die for you. That he'd kill for you. That you were all he ever wanted and all he ever needed. That you would be the woman to fill the hole inside of him and give him the family he believed he deserved. What was worse was he began to underhandedly demand your affection in return. He claimed it was the least you had to give back to him. 

You did your best to pay attention to your surroundings during his proclamation of love. You caught sight of boarded up windows, but no more exits. Eventually, after a few twists and turns you did your best to memorize, Eddie came to a stop in some sort of makeshift wedding hall. Wooden, rotting chairs were all lined up in pew-like rows. There was a podium up front and a moth eaten, long carpet laid between the rows of chairs. There were bloody footprints all over the faded rug. Some dead rose petals were still scattered about on the floor.

_How many fucking times has he done this?_

It only became obvious to you then how confident Eddie was that his words had convinced you to love him as he loved you. Or at least he thought some of his threats were going to make you behave. Unfortunately, he was very fucking wrong. Because the minute he set you down, your first course of action was to make yet another run for it. The look of rage upon his face was beyond inhuman. You figured it was fair enough, considering this was your third or fourth time you were going to try and escape him.

What you didn't expect was for him to attack you. You thought it was beyond him to ever lay a hand on you, considering how many minutes he had spent ranting about his undying love for you, how he'd fight and protect you until the end. You figured he wouldn't find it very gentleman-like. Obviously you were wrong and you figured that out very quickly when he literally beat you down onto the floor. 

It was impossible to think straight with the blows he was raining down upon your head, your chest, your abdomen. All you could feel was the burning pain shooting throughout your whole body. You shut your eyes, tears once again coming from your still reddened eyes. You were screaming and crying once again, but disassociating as well. You could hear your own shouts and cries now, but when you'd look back on it later, you wouldn't remember making them. Blood was pouring from your nose and trickling from the corners of your mouth as Eddie began to holler at you from above, like an angry god.

"You fucking unappreciative _slut_! You fucking-you fucking whore _bitch_! You fucking-"

The roar of his voice didn't die from your ears, even as he stopped beating you for a moment so he could grab onto your hair firmly and begin to drag you out. Your screaming blended with his voice. And all the sudden you could feel and hear nothing and everything at once. Thank God for disassociation. 

Eddie was used to his brides being unwilling--normally out of some shallow doubt or nervousness about their wedding day. But what was irritating him was the lack of begging. When he was forced to put his former wives back in line physically, they'd always begged him to stop. They _always_ begged for his mercy. But you wouldn't. You just cried and shouted out. At some point, he'd even heard you shrieking vulgar curses right back at him, equally as loud as he was throwing them at you. With even twice the venom at times. You wouldn't fucking back down from him. Eddie knew then he'd have to work harder at...encouraging you into your new role of his sensitive, lovely wife. He'd have to truly and honestly break you down. As much as he wanted to say it discouraged him or angered him more, it actually thrilled him. The challenge of helping you remember and realize that you loved him back, that you adored him like he already adored you, was one he was willing to take upon himself any day.

Eventually, you'd fallen limp, unable to fight him anymore around halfway down the hallway. Your head was killing you and your throat had gone hoarse. Shallow gasps came from your lips instead of loud curses and your regular bout of irritating defiance. His fingers fell loose from the hair along your scalp. Eddie decided then that you were worthy of being in his arms again, carried gently, like the princess he wanted you to be. He bent down and scooped you back up again. 

Your brows were furrowed tightly as you tried to bite back the pain. Your guess was that he'd broken a few of your ribs, fingers, and fucked your shoulder up even worse. Your jaw didn't feel right either. The blood from your nose had finally began to clot, leaving dried streaks down from your nostrils and along your cheek and jaw and lips. 

Even though he was angry, your beaten, defeated looking state encouraged him to find the bright side of the unfortunate and rather inconvenient situation.

"How _eager_ you must be to be mine, in my arms, in my very bed if you want to skip right past out wedding, darling." He leaned in close to you, his teeth practically against your earlobe, his breath hot against your skin. "I wouldn't expect anything less from a _filthy slut_ like _you_..." 

Tears once again began to stream from your eyes as you began to involuntarily tremble in Eddie's arms. The lines between his fake and real personality were starting to blur more and more heavily. You were having a harder and harder time trying to tell which one he was fronting. Eddie was even more unpredictable now. You were desperate to still convince yourself that you had some glimmering hope of an advantage. One of surprise and equal unpredictability. But the brutality of the beating you had just received and the knowledge of him knowing about your weak spot made your nervous. All he had to do was grab you a little too tightly on your shoulder and he had the power to make you fall to your knees, shrieking. You were lost about what to do next. Trying to run wasn't working. You wouldn't stop trying it whenever the opportunity presented itself, but goddammit now Eddie knew that too after the little stunt you pulled. 

You were lost. Truly lost. 

But still in denial over it, luckily, so you didn't feel quite as shitty. 

Maybe you should push him harder so that way he loses it and snaps your neck. You had a feeling of intense dread as he continued on until there was no where left to go. No where else but someplace beyond the door at the end of the winding corridor. Whatever was behind that door, was going to be your hell. Special, just for you. 

Eddie shouldered the door open easily. There was a sickening lurch in your stomach. His last victim was so recent he hadn't even closed the door before coming for you. The sickening lurch didn't vanish either as you gazed in horror upon said dingy, little room. It turned into this horrible, enveloping nausea that swallowed you whole. You didn't have time to think before Eddie tossed you upon the bed. It didn't help that you landed upon your side, on your bad shoulder, which the springs of the crappy mattress dug into. 

Your arm had been abused so much at this point all you could do was bite back more tears, unable to express your pain in any other way but rolling into a ball, cradling it. Your breaths became uneven. The hyperventilation was beginning. You had to give yourself credit for lasting this long in the asylum without descending into a panic attack until now. You could hear yourself mumbling, speaking, without even using your brain. 

"Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck," escaped between your lips every few short breaths.

There were no windows in this cinder block of a room. It was all grey. All colored wallpaper had been stripped off ages ago, and remnants of them stayed upon the rotting floor. There was just the one door. Stains all around of what you assumed was dried blood and something else you didn't care to identify. Haha! Denial! 

Your attention was torn from the room to Eddie. The one thing you hadn't noticed was the block of concrete that had been sitting patiently by the door. It looked pretty solid, pretty heavy. And it also happened to be pretty loud as Eddie let out a grunt of effort and began to slowly shove it in front of the door. Your heart sunk once you understood. The temperature in the room seemed to literally drop a few degrees colder. 

No way in hell you'd be able to move that block out of the way. The door opened inwards to the room. You couldn't escape. This was the dead end. The true, real dead end. Not some mockery like the sudden walls ending winding, maze-like hallways. This was what would finally stop you from the never ending hunt, the never ending chase you played rabbit in. Had you only the big fucking guy to worry about, an idea of a place like this would have relieved you.

But no.

It was worse now. You should have just let the big guy rip your goddamn head off. You should have-

"This is our special time, darling," Eddie suddenly gasped out, still breathless with the effort of moving the concrete block of debris. He stood up straighter, pushing his hand up against his head, smoothing back the fly-aways of his black hair. "A little sooner than expected, but nonetheless, something to treasure and savor." He gestured at the concrete block, the testament of his power, of the raw strength you had misunderstood and underestimated up until now. Eddie's voice grew fiercer. "I won't let anyone interrupt us or our love. Not anymore. There's no one but me for you now." 

He let out a sigh, filled with anticipation. And then he began to walk towards the bed, slowly, taking his time, watching the expressions change like rapid fire over your face. Fear. Confusion. Anger. Fear again. He only saw piqued interest on the face of his newest wife. 

"Stay away. Stay the _fuck_ away." He was at the bedside now as you began to cry all over again, not knowing how else to express the flurry of emotions you were feelings. "Stay away! I-I don't know what--I don't love you! I don't know you! A-And you don't even know me! Are you insane?!" Your voice twisted in desperation.

His hands had gone down to his belt to undo it. Your words didn't seem to even make him falter. They'd gone right over his head. You tried harder as he crawled onto the bed, overtop of you. His nose was barely touching yours as he looked down upon you with eyes filled with what you could only describe as being hunger and ....adoration. Complete and utter adoration.

"I don't want this!" you cried out. "I don't want _you_!"

He cupped your cheek in his hand. His rough fingers dug into your skin, maybe on purpose-- you weren't quite sure. "Don't be silly darling, I love you. And you can love me too. I'll take care of you for the rest of your life. I'll make sure you never feel unloved. I'll make you feel good and warm inside--I can make you all whole. Just like you'll make me. We can have our beautiful family and we can grow old together. Forever. Doesn't that sound lovely-"

You couldn't listen to him anymore. A sudden surge of adrenaline spurred you into moving once again, your shoulder forgotten about, your emotional state overrode, just for now. You practically almost shot off the bed. The manic part of you taking over was screaming in your head, drowning out everything else.

_If I keep running in circle, he-he can't catch me. I can just do it forever. He won't catch me. He can't catch me. He won't get me. I'll run forever and ever. From corner to corner. There's four corners in here. So many corners to pick from. He can't be in all of them at once. I can tire him out maybe. I can-_

You didn't make it off the bed in time. God knows if you actually even moved, it might have been all in your head...All you knew was that he was grabbing you tightly by the hips, his chin overtop your crotch. He was straining to drag you back. Cold with fear, you threw a stiff, blind punch down at him, catching him, hard, in the nose. This time it was Eddie's turn to howl a curse to the heavens that followed the horrible cracking sound of your fist against his face.

Your heart was pounding so ridiculously fucking hard. He still hadn't let go of you--he'd only ducked his head to the side, letting out a long, drawn out hiss of fury and pain. Slowly, he climbed back on top of you completely, grabbing at your flailing risks, letting out a grunt as he managed to pin them both. Eddie's nose dripped blood down upon you as he shifted both of your wrists to one, large, capable hand. His upper body lifted slightly as he slid his undone belt, finally, from his waist. 

"Filthy whore," he snarled. "Stop, s-top making this _so difficult!_ " Were there tears in his eyes? "Why can't you just let me _fucking love you_?! LET ME FUCKING LOVE YOU!"

Eddie suddenly looped his belt around your hands, disturbingly easily. He'd done this before. And before. And before. It was nothing more than a little habit to him. An instinct at this point. Mercilessly, he yanked your tied hands up, positioning them so that the belt was behind a rusting, broken spoke in the wire headboard behind you. The bedframe creaked dangerously under your combined weight with his. Your entire body trembled with effort as you tried to lift your upper body to unhook yourself. Big surprise! It didn't fucking work. The deep nail marks in your wrists that you hadn't noticed until now were beginning to sting, exposed to the cold air. 

"I think I'll keep you like this forever, darling. Until you learn to fucking behave, like a good little wife." Eddie's voice was seething with anger. He had your face tight in one of his massive, rough hands. It felt like he was going to jerk it to the side and just break your neck with one, quick, rough jerk then and there. But he seemed to restrain himself.

Who was shaking more? You from pure terror or him from the mixture of raw anger and thrill? You couldn't tell and you didn't know. You couldn't kick or fight back anymore. The adrenaline was fading from your veins all over again. And suddenly...you felt very tired. So fucking tired. Your shoulder was fucking killing you. All you could exhaustedly focus on was the throbbing, growing pain of everything, of your whole body, about to get ten times worse. Stale fear was renewed once more as one of Eddie's hands went down to work off the button on his slacks and zip down his pants, while the other went to your own body. You could feel his hand up your leg, your thigh, squeezing hard before he began to pull at your waistband. 

He was overtaking every sense you fucking had. All you could see was him. His scarred skin, his bloodshot eyes, narrow and dark, his flashing teeth. All you could hear was your own cries, the pounding of blood in your ears, his fucking moans of pleasure. All you could feel were his rough hands, pushing up your shirt, gripping at your chest so tightly. You could feel your own nails digging into your palms, becoming numb and fuzzy as the blood rushed away from them. You could feel him in you. You could feel the mattress practically giving away beneath your bodies. All you could smell was him, his musk, his sweat. It was nauseating. All you could taste was the salt of your own sweat and the blood dripping onto you, from Eddie's nose. You could taste the salt of your own tears too, still running steady down your face, blurring your vision even more than his. Sometimes, you could taste his hungry lips upon yours, and then the blood of your own lip when he bit down hard, as he fucked you, hard, into the bed like there really was going to be no tomorrow. 

You wished you were dead. You wished he'd snapped your neck. You wished you'd let the big fucking guy upstairs rip you apart limb from limb. You wished you'd never entered the asylum. You wished you'd never taken the job. You wished you'd never been born. 

The whole time his fantasies spilled from his lips, between pleasured gasps and groans. All his plans for you, how gorgeous of a mother you'd be to his children, how wonderful your family was going to be. How good a father he was going to make. How good of a husband he'd continue to be to you. One that he swore you'd fucking adore and love and die for. 

His sick promises made your stomach turn even more somehow. You turned your head to the side, closing your eyes tightly, trying so fucking hard to disassociate again. Trying so hard to fade out of what was happening. You wanted to shut down. And you came close to doing so. But Eddie must have noticed, because he suddenly stiffened, pushing down, hard, on your bad shoulder. The static fled from your mind and you shrieked in pain, involuntarily writhing beneath him. Apparently it was enough to finally bring him to his climax. 

Eddie laid there on top of you for a few long moments, his arms wrapped around you, holding you closely, tightly to him. A shudder ran over you. One. Single. Shudder. This was it. This was what breaking truly felt like. And then the feeling of intense sickness overcame you once again and now you weren't sure if it was ever going to truly leave you. 

"Please..." was the only word that escaped you, so surprisingly solid for the shaking mess it came from. 

He finally pulled out. He began to shift his pants back upwards, releasing you and wiping the sweat from his brow with a heavy sigh. You'd lost complete feeling in your fingers. You swallowed with the most difficulty you'd faced in your entire life. 

"Eddie, p-please...I think I'm going to be sick." Your voice finally became hoarse and hollow again. You grimaced, unable to open your eyes, not wanting to look at him. 

Eddie reached up and, surprisingly, completely undid the belt from around your wrists. He stood up first before pulling you up and off the bed and to your feet. Trembling, gasping breaths still left your mouth. Your legs were shaking so fucking bad. You didn't know if you were able to stand up and walk on your own. Turns out you didn't have to find out, because Eddie seemed to already know. He made you use him as a support as he walked you over to a corner, the one farthest from the bed that had an empty bucket in it. 

You collapsed to your knees and heaved. Eddie's heavy, large hands found their place upon your back and rubbed slowly, in an attempt to be comforting that didn't register with you. He even stretched his other hand out to sweep back and hold your hair, saying something to you that also didn't reach your ears. To make the situation worse, your whole body began to ache with a new, deep soreness that wasn't just emotional anymore. It was disgustingly physical. You kept trying to weakly shrug his hand off your back, but you became distracted every time you had to vomit again. At this point, it was mostly bile.

There it was again as you spit the last of the acid from your dry mouth. Your throat burned badly. The exhaustion. Setting slowly back in, hand in hand with the aching. Your legs wouldn't work, as hard as you tried to stand back up on your own. You wanted to throw his arm off and get away from him. You wanted to scream at him, curse him, bang your head into the wall over and over again until you were fucking dead. But you just couldn't move. Your brows furrowed as your eyes closed almost involuntarily. 

Eddie's arm wrapped around you as he slowly lifted you back up to your feet. You were shaking so violently that when you opened your eyes it was like your vision was all blurry with tears again. To be fair, maybe it was. Your legs gave out again and a soft sob came from you as you went to cover your face with heavy, still asleep hands. There were dark marks around your wrists where Eddie's belt had been tied. 

"It's alright, darling, I've got you," he told you. His arms were all around you once again as he gently lifted you off the floor. You fell limp, tears still rolling down your face. You didn't have the strength nor the desire to hang onto him. You wished he'd slip and drop you so you could crack your fucking head open and bleed to death on the floor. 

Your mind was still spinning. Why couldn't you fucking fight him? Why couldn't you just draw up the strength to fucking kill him right here right now? You wanted it so bad. You wanted to make him pay. He needed to fucking pay. 

As thoughts of vengeance spun in your addled head, Eddie laid you down tenderly onto the bed. He let himself lay aside you, his hand going to your waist, rubbing back and forth slowly over your body. Even as you began to cry harder and curl up into a ball, he stroked you--his attempt at soothing you, "protecting" you like he had promised so many times before. He wrapped his arms around you, almost cradling you as he pressed a kiss to your forehead before nestling your head against his broad chest. 

"Shhhh...shhhhhh..." he hushed you. "You'll learn to love this. To love me. You will, darling. I promise you."


End file.
